


Thirty Pieces of Silver

by thatsakitkat



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alpha Dean, Alpha Sam, Alpha-to-Omega Turning, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Bottom Dean, Come Eating, Come Marking, Dark, Demon Blood Addiction, Disturbing Themes, Drugging, F/M, Fucked Up, Heterosexual Sex, M/M, Manipulation, Mutual Non-Con, No Healing Cock, Omega Dean, Rape Aftermath, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sam On Demon Blood, Sam Winchester's Demonic Powers, Top Sam, Unhappy Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-12
Updated: 2014-05-12
Packaged: 2018-01-24 12:36:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1605425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatsakitkat/pseuds/thatsakitkat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"We don't want him talking like that to you anymore do we? You deserve respect, Sam. And as your Alpha brother, Dean won't ever be able to give you that. He'll keep you from killing Lilith. How bad do you want her dead, Sam?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Thirty Pieces of Silver

**Author's Note:**

> This is really a read at your own risk type deal.
> 
> Please comment! It means a lot to me. Or leave me a note if you bookmark it :)
> 
> Takes place in some kind of s4 vacuum. doesn't follow s4 at all really. probably doesn't earn the nc-17 rating in the way you would expect but i'm just being safe.
> 
> [i'm on tumblr](http://thatsakitkat.tumblr.com/)

 

"Well, there is something else you could do," Ruby purrs, settling herself in Sam's lap, catches him under the chin and makes him look at her.  
  
"I can't," Sam says, "I can't do that to him. We swore to each other we would never do that."  
  
Ruby's hands are on his face now, hot with the blood he can hear calling him and he turns his face into her wrist, mouth falling open. It's been a long time since his last fix. "You've thought about it," Ruby whispers, "I know you have. All those times Dean's undercut you, all those times he's taken anyone else's side but yours. He still treats you like his little kid brother, even though you're much more of an Alpha than he is, and you know that," Ruby slides her hand down his neck, to his chest, where she spreads her fingers, "in your heart."  
  
He looks at her and she laughs. "I know everything about you. We don't have any secrets, do we Sam? Like you said, he's not as strong as he used to be. He's weak, always has been. And the way he's treated you lately, you've been thinking, maybe it's time."  
  
Ruby takes his silence as agreement. "It's not natural, not turning him."  
  
"Not normal," he acknowledges.  
  
"Not _right_ ," Ruby insists. "Don't you feel that? Doesn't it itch under your skin?"  
  
"It always has, but... he never, he never tried with me. I don't—"  
  
"What's that thing he said to you? Hm?" She leans in and grazes his ear with her lips. "Did you forget?"  
  
 _If I didn't know you, I would want to hunt you_. Sam clenches his teeth, "No."  
  
"We don't want him talking like that to you anymore do we? You deserve respect, Sam. And as your Alpha brother, Dean won't ever be able to give you that. He'll keep you from killing Lilith. How bad do you want her dead, Sam?"  
  
Sam shakes with rage just thinking about that _bitch_. "More than anything."  
  
"And nothing can get in the way of that. You can't let Dean stop you."

\--  
  
In the wild, when the alpha wolf grows weak with age or wounds, he's violently usurped.  
  
Dean is weak.  
  
Sam doesn't stop with food. He supplements that tactic with coming into his hand and letting it run into Dean's shampoo bottle, his hand lotion, his aftershave and he smears a thin, inscrutable line of it onto Dean's deodorant. Skin absorption is slower, but Dean's ingesting it as well, in all the store-bought pies Sam suddenly doesn't forget anymore. Sam sees fit to buy him one of those a day, and silly pie-loving Dean doesn't even pay any heed to the fact that the tape's been broken already, that Sam only gets him cream or coconut.  
  
That he doesn't notice proves he's weak. He eventually picks up Sam's scent all over him, but all that amounts to is him asking Sam if he's been wearing his clothes. When Sam says no, Dean says, "Huh," and goes to the laundromat more often.  
  
There's no washing Sam out of his skin.  
  
It's two weeks for noticeable changes to occur. Dean's in bed a whole day with debilitating stomach cramps, and he's making Sam wait on him hand and foot, which Sam does happily. With a spring in his step actually.  
  
That night, Sam helps Dean sit up to give him some water. Dean takes the glass and tosses it down while Sam looks at him. His brother's red and covered in sweat, but he doesn't smell as rank as he should. Sam mentally pens that down as another change.  
  
"Shouldn't'a ate that chili, Sammy. Feel like it's chewed _me_ up," Dean says hoarsely. He gives Sam back the glass, "Put somethin' harder in there would ya?"  
  
Sam brings him back some jack. "How're you feeling now?" he asks.  
  
"Sore, but all right. Back on the road tomorrow."  
  
"Yeah, for sure," Sam says, and leaves as soon as Dean's passed out.  
  
"It's working," Sam tells Ruby breathlessly, rocking against her. He wants her bad, so revved and keyed up he just pushes her to the carpet and rips her jeans and panties down.  
  
"Of course it is." She gasps and moans when he shoves in roughly. His thrusts jolt her up the floor, and he thinks, maybe, he's being too rough, but he feels too good, too powerful to slow. He yanks her hips back into his and turns his grin to the ceiling. "He blamed it on the chili, ha, ha— _ah_ —it's his organs movin' around. Growin' some new ones."  
  
"Yeah, no turning back now," Ruby gets out between the slaps of skin.  
  
Sam says he isn't going to, and he doesn't.  
  
\--

Sam's never seen his brother so red. He watches with what he hopes is a concerned, brotherly look on his face while Dean rolls his shoulders and unzips himself. "Okay Sammy, let's just uh, be clinical about this. Turn your lawyer brain on."  
  
Sam raises his eyebrows. He's still looking at Dean's face. "What does being a lawyer have to do with your—"  
  
Dean squeezes his eyes shut. "Oh, you know what I mean! Just—this is serious man. I really need you to just look and tuh—tell me if uh, if it's—" Dean cuts himself off and shifts on his feet.  
  
"It's all right Dean," Sam assures, stepping in closer till he's nearly forehead to forehead with Dean, both looking down between them at Dean's fingers on his fly.  
  
Dean swallows audibly and holds his breath while he takes himself out, then just as quick tucks himself back in. "Well?"  
  
"I didn't—I didn't get a chance to see, Dean. You gotta show me again," Sam says as dispassionately as possible.  
  
Dean sighs loudly. "Okay. But don't, God, please just don't laugh or something okay? And give me your honest opinion, I mean I'm probably just imagining this shit but—"  
  
"I'm not gonna laugh. Let's just get this over with, huh?"  
  
Dean deflates a bit. "Yeah," he agrees. "Okay. Believe me, I want this to be over too, I mean you've seen it before and everything—that's why I'm asking you—but it's—"  
  
"Dean."  
  
"Yeah." And suddenly Sam's looking at Dean's dick and just stares at it a few moments.  
  
Dean's resolutely not looking at his cock or Sam, face tilted up to the ceiling. "Well?" he questions. "Does it look, does it look smaller?"  
  
"Move your thumb outta the way."  
  
Dean drops his thumb. There's no partial swell of a knot beneath it. Sam barely stops himself from smiling. There's supposed to be, Sam's seen enough of Dean's dick, his own dick, Alpha dick to clearly remember the slight bulge that's supposed to be at the bottom, but he says, "Does it always look like this?"  
  
Dean whips his head back down. "Look like what?" he gets out.  
  
"Where's your knot?"  
  
Dean looks down and grabs at himself furiously with a small shriek. He pulls on his cock like he's trying to stretch it out, and feels around the base with his other hand. "What?!"  
  
"Calm down Dean, I'm sure it didn't just disappear," Sam says, and rolls his eyes for good measure. "When's the last time—"  
  
"A few weeks ago!" Dean screeches. "It was there! Fuck!"  
  
"Maybe it just needs to be, ah, interested for—"  
  
Before the words can even make it out of his mouth, Dean disappears into the bathroom.  
  
He's in there a few hours.  
  
\--

"Prescription strength," Dean says proudly, turning over the box of Tyenze in his fingers. "Hey Sam, you should try this too. Bet you need the help," Dean snickers.  
  
"Actually Dean, I don't."  
  
"Yeah?" Sam doesn't like the conversational note in his voice. Dean starts opening the little black box while he asks, "What are you, six, six and a half?"  
  
"I don't know, I haven't measured," Sam informs him primly. "But I think it's more than that."  
  
Dean shakes his head and chuckles. "Yeah right."  
  
Unlike the other way around, Dean's never gotten a good look at Sam's dick before. Sam considers rectifying that briefly, but the window of opportunity for him to say _I'll show you_ passes in silence.  
  
Dean takes two Tyenze.  
  
Tomorrow he'll take four.  
  
On Wednesday he'll finish the box, and he'll break down and ask Sam to look again.  
  
And his dick will be even smaller, but Sam won't tell him that.  
  
\--  
  
At the end of the month, Sam drops Ruby's wrist from his teeth and sweeps his tongue over her sweet blood spread around his mouth. He rolls off her and heaves a breath, then smiles. "He hasn't shaved in a week. There's not a single hair on his cheeks. It's like it all just fell off while he was sleeping. He thinks it's from the male enhancement pills he's been taking." Sam laughs. It's hilarious. "God. I almost wanna tell him just to put him outta his misery."  
  
"You probably shouldn't."  
  
"Why? I could take him. I could take him when he was a full blown Alpha. I've always been stronger." He looks over to Ruby and finds nothing but confirmation in her eyes. He likes that, he likes that about her. She knows how powerful he is. She believes in him.  
  
Sam moves back on top of her and breathes in her meatsuit's scent, then looks at her. The girl she's in is attractive, but Sam prefers blondes more; he liked the last one better. "I want it to go faster," Sam says, touching her dark hair. "How can I make it go faster?"  
  
Ruby smiles.  
  
\--  
  
Sam crushes the pills up and sneaks the dust in the pies, along with his come. Dean eats it all. In a couple of hours Dean's so out of it he falls asleep still wearing his boots. Sam slaps him a few times, just to make sure the sedative's kicked in good, then falls back on his haunches and finds himself staring at Dean while he works to get himself off.  
  
Dean's pretty. Sam's known that since he was old enough to lift his head, and anyone with eyes can't deny it. Too pretty to be an Alpha, Sam's thought more than once, and it's been said to Dean's face by the things they hunt, from the people they've taken upon themselves to protect. Dean's cracked his knuckles in the faces of them all.  
  
It was the weirdest during puberty, when Dean's appearance and Dean's scent were telling him two different things. He had even popped his knot thinking about his very Alpha brother's full lips around his cock and wondered if he was gay, but those fantasies had trailed off and Sam had put it up to emerging hormones.  
  
Dean's alphascent has faded. It doesn't chafe in Sam's nose anymore, it's softer and lighter and sweeter and it matches Dean more.  
  
Sam cuts his groan behind his teeth as he comes, spurting into his palm. He gets as much out of himself as possible before he reaches over and pushes his fingers between those plump lips, pushing his come into Dean's mouth.  
  
Straight from the source is faster. While it's still warm and fresh, it's more potent. "Good, Dean," Sam praises softly after he's rubbed Dean's throat until he's swallowed. "Get it all down."  
  
While Sam waits out his refractory time, he finds himself riveted with Dean's mouth, finds himself thumbing at Dean's pink lips and agreeing with Ruby that yes, it's not natural. Dean should've been turned as soon as possible, looking like this. He could've been spared a lot of grief.  
  
Sam gets hard again in only a few minutes. He comes less than before, but makes sure Dean swallows it all, then he wipes the residue from Dean's lips and stares at him some more, thinking about what Dean will be like as an Omega, what he'll smell like when he's in heat.  
  
\--  
  
The next day, Sam says, "I'm driving," with a little bit of push behind the words, nothing a fellow Alpha would notice.  
  
Dean blinks, then says, "Sure," and tosses Sam the keys.  
  
Sam feels victorious, but it doesn't really prove anything. In the diner, he drops his wallet purposely, and tells Dean to pick it up.  
  
Dean does it without even a scant complaint. Sam smiles through breakfast.  
  
He tells Dean to pick something up, Dean picks it up. He tells Dean to stop doing something, Dean stops doing it.  
  
Eventually Dean gives up on trying any kind of medication. Eventually Dean's dropping his eyes and eventually he's smelling perfect and ripe and Sam can't resist; as soon as Dean goes out Sam drops himself into his bed and rolls around in that scent, nuzzling Dean's pillow without a clue of what the fuck he's doing he just _loves that scent_ , and he even steals a few of Dean's shirts and he asks Ruby to wear them while he fucks her.  
  
Ruby does it for him. Sam bruises her hips with the force of his thrusts.  
  
"You could just fuck _him_ you know," Ruby says, after she's given him more blood. "Sounds like he's ready for it. Just roll him over and go for it."  
  
Sam doesn't, because it wouldn't feel right. Try as he might to tell himself the ends justify the means (they do, and he believes that) it doesn't stop him from feeling sorry for Dean when the other man seems increasingly more perplexed about everything, the way he blinks in confusion after Sam's used Alpha voice on him, or how it seems like he's given up on picking up girls altogether (it's because of his dick, Sam knows, he's seen, he knows why even if Dean doesn't bring it up anymore) and given in to drinking more and more.  
  
Sam just loves the fresh Omega scent. He loves how powerful he feels with the blood, with his brother finally brought down a few pegs. He's never felt better.  
  
And he can't stop.  
  
\--  
  
Sam wonders if Dean truly doesn't know, or if he's in some kind of denial and has just been covering his ears and singing lalalala. He can't get his knot plumped, he smells like a bitch and he's deferring to Sam on everything but—outside of momentary confusion and rising risk of cirrhosis—he's carrying on as if everything is the peachiest kind of keen.  
  
He hasn't slept with anyone in weeks. Sam asks him about that and gets an, "Eh, haven't been feelin' like it," as if sex is an elective and not the center of Dean's whole universe, only superseded by Sam, maybe.  
  
Dean smells better and better. It's all Sam can do to not grab his brother and shove his nose in his neck, rip off his clothes and jerk inside until bruises bloom on his ass. Dean is fruit growing brighter and brighter as it ripens. Soon Dean's first heat'll come, and he'll be ready to pick.  
  
Sam thinks he really should've done this a long time ago, and fuck whatever promise they made to each other, Sam could've made Dean an Omega and claimed him too. Not like it's frowned upon. Not like it'd be frowned upon _now_ , but fuck, Sam's wasted so much time because of stupid words he traded with Dean when he was _ten_.  
  
__  
  
Sam drags a demon out of its meatsuit, and it's powerful, so powerful Sam almost can't do it, but the thing had almost managed to break Dean's neck, and the fearscent is still fervent in the air, directing all of Sam's instincts, so Sam yanks the thing out little by little until blood rushes out of his nose and his brain seems to wobble and snap.  
  
He tries to kill it, to rip apart the vile smoke, but all the pain in his skull coalesces until his concentration lapses, and the smoke dissipates into the floor.  
  
And Dean's distress only heightens when Sam moves towards him, and Sam hasn't won anything has he. "Don't worry," Sam says, crashing to his knees, "too tired to do anything else."  
  
Dean helps him get up, and when Sam looks at him Dean's face is carefully even. "What were you trying to do, kill that thing?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"That can't be possible."  
  
"It is, Ruby said it is, I was so close, _fuck_. I get further and further every time, then it starts hurting too much. But Dean, I can do it, I know I can kill them, I just need more practice."  
  
Dean scowls. "With Ruby."  
  
"Yeah, with Ruby. Not like you can help me there, can you?" Sam stands his ground, glaring at Dean, challenging him to start in.  
  
Dean draws himself up. "Look, I know you think you're doing the right thing—"  
  
"I am. Dean, you're not used to us having options. We don't have to shove the knife in them anymore, I can stop them. And look," Sam walks over to the unconscious man's body, "he's alive. I _saved_ him."  
  
"You're drinking demon blood, Sam! From that bitch! Like some kind of fucking vampire—"  
  
Sam growls and stalks towards him. "Shut up!"  
  
"You shut up!" Dean snarls, baring his teeth, nostrils flaring, and shoves Sam. "You don't know what you're doing!"  
  
"Yes I do! Stop talking to me like I'm nine years old Dean!" Sam seethes a breath, then snaps in Dean's face, "You're mad 'cause I'm stronger, that I can do what you can't. I bet I coulda lasted those forty years, Dean, I could've lasted a _thousand_ because I'm not a weak _excuse_ —"  
  
Dean makes a sound of outrage and it seems like in slow motion, draws back his fist. There's plenty of time for Sam to catch it in his own, yank Dean's arm over his head and twist him around, force him to his knees. Dean's shoulder pops as it dislocates.  
  
"Oh, you fuckin' bastard, sunuvvabitch I'll fucking—"  
  
"You'll fucking shut up," Sam hisses, shaking Dean's captured arm and pushing hitched gasps of pain from his brother. " _Now_ ," and he puts all his vocal strength behind the word; it rumbles out from deep within and its power makes goose flesh break out on Sam's own skin.  
  
Dean shuts up. Sam lets his arm go and the other man falls forward onto the concrete, landing on a forearm. Sam moves around so he can face him, picks him up by the shoulders and before Dean can realize what he's doing, he jerks Dean's joint back into its socket. Dean starts and grimaces, but he doesn't make a sound. "I don't want to hurt you," Sam tells him. "Damn it Dean, you know that. Just, quit talking about it. I'm doing this so I can kill Lilith. I'm doing _all_ this."  
  
\--  
  
"Then fuck him."  
  
Sam looks up at her sharply, but her face offers nothing. "What?"  
  
"Don't play dumb, Dumbo. Final step. Should ixnay that last bit of stubbornness. Rape's harder on As than Os and Bs, I've heard. And he's still an A in his head."  
  
Sam feels hot bile crawl up his throat. Ruby touches him and he flinches and leans away. She goes for his knee instead. "What's something like that do to Alphas, huh? Dean's so big, thinks he's so tough, what will that do to him?" There's only hunger in her dark eyes. "It'll ruin him," Sam says to them. And then he says, "I won't do that to him."  
  
Ruby clicks her tongue and sighs. "You might not have a choice."  
  
"What's that supposed to mean?"  
  
Ruby tilts her head. "Well I don't know Sam. Has Dean been taking his suppressants?" She laughs.  
  
"Suppress—" Sam repeats, cuts himself short as he realizes. Oh. He looks down at his own lap. "Of course he hasn't," he says under his breath. He drops his head into his hands and digs his fingernails into his scalp. Fuck.  
  
Ruby hums. "Big bro's gonna have his time of the month pretty soon, Sam. And I guarantee, as soon as you smell him, there won't be any choice for either of you. So, do you wait till then, or get it done now? We need to be ahead of the game, Sam. We really do."  
  
"He doesn't even know what's wrong with him yet. He doesn't even know what I've done to him."  
  
\--  
  
"Take a shower, you fuckin' smell like her," Dean groans, shooing Sam away with the arm not over his eyes. Dean cringes on the sheets with another cramp though, and Sam reaches for him again. Dean slaps him off. "Fuck, God, Sam just leave me alone all right? You're takin' up half the bed. Get me some aspirin."  
  
Dean takes three with the water Sam gives him, which tilts alarmingly when Dean hunches over with a hoarse gasp. Sam catches the glass and sets it back on the nightstand.  
  
"Swear, need some fucking Motrin or something," Dean says through a grimace, and really, it's so appropriate Sam fights down a laugh.  
  
Sam thinks these are pre-heat cramps, which Jess used to get. Just following his nose, it's likely Dean'll be in full heat by the end of the week, officially an Omega.  
  
Dean scrubs a hand over his scalp. "God, don't know what's been going on lately. Musta shattered too many mirrors and walked under too many ladders huh Sammy?"  
  
Sam hums an agreement, and opens up the curtains, showering the room in light. Then he grabs the keys and says, "I'm gonna gas up the car. You want—"  
  
"Yeah, get me some more aspirin. And uh, some candy. The sweet shit."  
  
Sam raises his eyebrows. "Candy?"  
  
"'m I speaking English Sam?" Dean throws the covers over himself in an angry flourish. "Six pack would be nice too."  
  
"Sure thing."  
  
\--  
  
Dean wolfs down the chocolate bars and blue shark gummies and leaves the wrappers in a shiny pile by the pillow like a dragon's hoarded treasure. He gets through three beers as well before the cramps return with nausea, and he's over the toilet puking everything back up.  
  
Sam's patting his back through the final retches, staying as close as possible because he feels bad, making Dean go through this, no matter if the means are justified by the ends. Dean's hand fumbles for the flush handle before he manages to press it down, then he wipes his mouth and falls back into Sam's chest.  
  
It's a lot of scent, so close. Sam clears his throat and starts to get his legs under him, but Dean turns his face into his neck and scents Sam's freshly showered skin. Dean seems to keep his scent in his lungs a long time, then exhales a hot wash of breath that has Sam shivering. "You smell good," Dean hoarses, "what kinda cologne is that?"  
  
"C'mon Dean," Sam breathes as he stands up with his brother, who thankfully puts space between them to go over and swig some mouthwash.  
  
Dean's passed out ten minutes later.  
  
Sam doesn't go to see Ruby that night. He drops himself into the other bed and drinks the other three beers.  
  
\--  
  
Dean sleeps most of the next week. There's hunts on the backburner, there's seals breaking, there's Lilith and angels but Dean says he's not up to moving around and they can spare another few days while whatever it is works its way out of his system.  
  
Omegas nest, Sam knows that. It's pre-heat behavior to want to stay in one place and avoid going out. So he stays at the motel with Dean and gets him his beer and his Milky Ways and waits. Every day he thinks he's going to wake up and be taken over by Dean's heatscent, but though Dean's smell makes Sam want to rub all over him, his actual heat stays on the horizon.  
  
Sam knows it's coming though, intuitively, can feel the potential in the air that makes him restless, biting his lip and jigging his leg and wanting to get out of the room as much he wants to stay put and he should leave, shouldn't he, before Dean's in the throes of it, before he gives in (he won't, he would _never_ ) and Ruby says twenty, thirty, forty seals are gone, you're wasting time, Sam. Things need to come together for this to work. You're all in or you're not.  
  
"Everytime I wake up it's like I get hit by a truck," Dean laments, one eye closed in exhaustion and the other peering at the soup Sam made, "then I go to sleep and get hit by another truck. 's like I'm roadkill that hasn't been squished enough."  
  
"Eat your soup Dean."  
  
"Yeah." Dean gets a spoonful and tucks it between his lips and has no complaints. His hair's wildly sticking up in all directions, and he's pale looking and lethargic and Sam finds himself sitting on the bed next to him, tapping away on his laptop. The headlines are filled with omens and occurrences from every state in the lower forty-eight.  
  
It's not a good time to be alive.  
  
\--  
  
On Sunday, Sam comes back to the motel with a bag of assorted candies and a store-bought pie, tape unbroken. Dean's in the bathroom. Sam sighs and he's swinging the bag onto Dean's bed when fearscent trickles into his lungs. And something else. His eyes waver to the closed door and he steps closer, unable to help himself, closer till he's against the wood. "Dean?"  
  
"Something's wrong, Sam," Dean's voice says. "Ain't feelin' right."  
  
"Okay," Sam says, squeezing his eyes shut and rolling his forehead against the door. Fuck, he wants to be in there, hand already wrapped around the doorknob. It's probably not locked.  
  
The distressed aspect of the scent is the worse, because it's screaming at him to help, to protect, but the only protection he can give Dean is from himself. "Just—just try and calm down and tell me what's wrong."  
  
"Don't know. You tell me, Sammy."  
  
Sam opens his eyes. Throat clicking around words, ice washing through his veins, his mind soothes itself with _he doesn't know, he doesn't know, calm down or he'll smell it on you_ and he says, "I can't tell you what's wrong with you, Dean, quit messing around."  
  
Dean chuckles. "Oh Sammy. Till the very end huh? Gotta give you credit."  
  
Shit, shit, shit. "Dean," and it's in his voice now too, screeching in his subvocals, steel on steel and cutting his throat as it closes, "just tell me what's wrong."  
  
"You swore to me Sam. You promised."  
  
 _I know I did, and I'm sorry, but I had to_. "I don't know what you're talking about."  
  
"I must still be there."  
  
"Still _where_?" Sam asks helplessly, shifting his fingers on the knob, shifting his feet as his blood seems to bounce right out of his skin. He needs to be in there, he needs, has to—  
  
"Back in the pit. 'cause there's no way my brother would do this to me. Not in a million years."  
  
"I'm coming in Dean," Sam says, because what else can he do? He's all in or he's not.  
  
Dean's splayed on the bathroom floor, sitting up partially with his shoulder blades against the tub, which he jerks back into when Sam opens the door. His pupils blow up big and dark upon looking at Sam and he tries to scramble back with nowhere to go. "Get out!" Dean barks, but it wavers.  
  
"Get up." Sam grabs his arms and pulls him from the floor, moving through thick scent. Dean shoves, then goes for a punch that Sam takes in the lip, before he wrenches Dean's arms behind his back and forces him out of the bathroom. Dean tries to push upwards out of his hold, then tries going down to the floor.  
  
One of his sweat-slick wrists bursts from Sam's hold. Dean pounds it back into where it hurts the most.  
  
Instantly sick, Sam crumples to his knees and jerks Dean's arm the wrong way. There's a long breath and a snap and Dean _wails_.  
  
"Oh my God, oh my God, Dean, I'm sorry, I'm—" he lets the arm go and fuck, it's bent, gruesomely bulging by Dean's elbow and Dean gives another agonized cry when it flops back into his side, limp hand dragging over the floor.  
  
Sam loses details from there. There's Dean's fear and heatscent telling his mind two different things, there's trying to see through his instincts, there's hauling Dean onto the bed and there's the feel of cool metal in his hands and there's grabbing Dean's good hand and the crisp sound of locking handcuffs.  
  
And then there's Ruby.  
  
\--  
  
"Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus—"  
  
"Stop," Sam commands.  
  
Dean blinks and falters, then lunges against the handcuffs with his teeth bared at Ruby. " _You fuckin' bitch_!" he roars.  
  
"You're the bitch now, Dean," Ruby smirks, edging around the bed. "Haven't you gotten the memo?"  
  
"I'll fucking kill you, I'll fucking kill you and send your ass straight back to hell if it's the last damn thing I do, you fucking demon _bitch_!" The bed frame clatters as Dean pulls against the cuffs, arching and kicking and twisting as Ruby gets close enough to touch his face. She leans down to say something but Dean viciously spits at her.  
  
Sam goes over and pulls her away before she can retaliate by yanking Dean's back teeth out or something. "Calm down," he tells Dean, whose eyes flick towards him and dilate once more, black overtaking green even as his overall expression flicks from rage to pain and betrayal.  
  
Dean can't seem to look him in the eye. He stares hatefully at Ruby instead. "This was all her wasn't it? She got you to do this to me. How could you pick her over me Sam? Your brother?" Dean seems to choke on his breath. "I've done everything for you, I spent—I spent forty years in hell for you, just to come back and have you _turn your back on me_."  
  
"Boo hoo, poor poor Dean—"  
  
"Ruby."  
  
Ruby gives him a look, which he returns evenly until she scoffs and crosses her arms but shuts her mouth. Sam looks back to his brother and says, "It's not like that. This had to happen, Dean. The whole two Alphas thing, how long did you really expect that to last? It's not natural."  
  
"You promised. We promised each other. And everything was fine until that demon got her claws into you. Sam, can't you see that? Why are you listening to her!"  
  
"You know why." Sam shakes his head and sighs. "Dean, I need to kill Lilith."  
  
"What does that have to do with anything?" Dean wails, dropping his head back to the pillow and jerking the cuffs.  
  
"I can't let you stop me. And I know you would've tried. Damn it Dean, I _had_ to do this. You didn't leave me a choice."  
  
Dean looks back to him. "Choice?" he laughs, all caught up in his throat and nothing more than a wheeze, tears spilling down his cheeks. It must be really hilarious because he keeps going, until Sam's not sure if he's still laughing or he's started sobbing.  
  
Ruby's touch on Sam's arm makes him start. "Are you ready?"  
  
"For what?"  
  
She jumps her eyes from Sam to Dean. "The last step? He's in heat, and we've wasted enough time already."  
  
"I thought I told you that wasn't the plan," Sam hisses lowly.  
  
"You break his arm and tie him to the bed, and that's not your plan." Ruby shakes her head. "You're smarter than this Sam. It's always been the plan. You know what you're gonna do and you're stalling."  
  
"I'm not going—"  
  
"What's the problem, you need some help?" Her hand cups him loosely, then squeezes tight, tighter—  
  
The bed frame rattles. "Get your hands off him you bitch!" Dean shouts, torso twisting towards his cuffed hand, his broken arm's fingers clawing into the sheets.  
  
"Aw, I think Dean's jealous," Ruby says, letting Sam go to travel around to the foot of the bed. She moves onto it, catches Dean's foot that goes for her face, catches the other that goes for her ribs, and pins them both to the bed, with her hands then with her power.  
  
A "Ruby, stop," is in Sam's throat as she moves Dean's feet to the edges of the bed, spreading his legs wide, but it never quite gets any voice.  
  
"Get the hell away from me," Dean croaks, and Sam can see the useless flex of his thigh muscles through his thin pants as Dean tries to close his legs.  
  
"Poor little O in heat," Ruby taunts, moving closer until Sam watches her hold Dean's bare sides, sweep her hands down until her thumbs dig into the grooves of his hips, tracing them in towards—  
  
"Ruby," and Sam's there, suddenly, slivers of power snapping at her thumbs. Ruby jerks her hands away, then darts for one of Sam's. She forces him to cup Dean the way she had cupped him earlier, and he watches Dean's muscles roll as the other man tries to pull himself away, as his scent suddenly blooms, so powerful Sam's eyes close under the weight and he almost sinks to the floor. Dean and Ruby are both talking, indistinct under the roar in his ears, the needling urge to possess. Has to move, has to get up, he opens his eyes and through cement it seems, reaches for Dean; he wants to be inside something, he wants inside Dean's body he wants inside his _skin_ —  
  
No no no, he can't. He would _never_.  
  
Sam breathes harshly through his nose and directs his hands to the sheets instead, bunching them in his fists, trying to get his messy thoughts together into something feasible, he can get himself together, he can—  
  
Something crashes near him and he jumps, falling back instinctively. His mind feels torn open and bare, exposed, and there's something slick and coppery coating his upper lip (blood? why is he bleeding?) and his skull feels like it's trying to break out of its skin.  
  
Ruby's yelling for him. Sam growls at her voice; she's probably the one doing this to him, maybe, she wants him to rape Dean, and he won't, he's going to get up and _kill_ her for this—  
  
The pain eases, suddenly. Sam sinks too far into the relief, into the dark.  
  
\--  
  
When Sam wakes up, everything is floating.  
  
He tracks his eyes around everything pressing into the ceiling; the lamps and nightstands, the motel stationery that flaps by his face; pens and beer cans and the trash, and all those shiny candy wrappers shimmering like spinnerbait.  
  
Sam closes his eyes and licks crusted blood from his lips. "Dean."  
  
A moan is what he gets. Sam rolls onto his side, then grabs the bed to pull himself up and blinks heavily.  
  
"You can put everything down now, Sam," Ruby says somewhere to his left. "Try not to do it too quickly though."  
  
Sam makes the connection after a few moments—he can feel the gape in his mind where his power is leaking out, unfocused energy lifting everything in the air. Sam concentrates on the spill and brings it back in, and the candy wrappers and nightstands get sucked down by gravity once more. "Dean," he says again, dragging himself onto the bed like a man drags himself onto driftwood.  
  
Dean is hot skin and sweat and sweet. He looks as half-awake as Sam feels, eyes only opened into little slits, face flushed and wet but he's looking up at Sam and he gasps when Sam accidentally puts weight on his broken arm. Sam looks at it (bruised purple now) and wonders if he could set the bone back into place with his powers, but then that might do more harm than good if he doesn't get it just right.  
  
There's a hand in his hair. For a bizarre moment he thinks it's Dean's, but then he hears Ruby say, "Trying to resist knocked you cold Sam. You've been out awhile. Don't do it again."  
  
Ruby's hand moves into his line of vision and he watches blearily as she drags her knuckles over Dean's smooth cheek. Dean doesn't even have an insult for her. "He's in deeper now, starting to really suffer. Are you gonna let your brother suffer Sam?"  
  
Sam doesn't answer. He takes her hand away from Dean, though, doesn't like her touching him. He probably growls too because Ruby chuckles, "Aw, getting possessive already? Cute."  
  
Her hand bunches in his hair. "You know Sam, it doesn't have to be you. Do you want me to call someone else? I can do that, if you're not up to it."  
  
"Ruby, just—just wait a minute." Sam gets his eyes open all the way and makes himself sit up, clutching his head as pain flares. Feels like he ripped a trench open in his brain. His eyes waver to Dean, who doesn't look good. He looks like he's fucking _dying_.  
  
"D'you do something to him?"  
  
"Did _I_ do something to him? No, this is all you. And he's just gonna get worse," Ruby says. She smirks, "So, if you're not up to it—"  
  
"Ruby—"  
  
"The transformation needs to be completed, Sam! I'm giving you an out, and you should take it."  
  
Sam shakes his head and gets up. The key for the handcuffs is on the bathroom counter. There's drugs that can stop heat. The birds are starting to chirp outside the motel.  
  
Sam loves his brother.  
  
"We're done," he says to Ruby as he passes her. "I'm not doing this."  
  
Ruby's face barely flickers before Sam feels himself picked up and thrown. His back crashes into the wall, splitting the plaster as Ruby advances on him. "Stop it!" he snarls, drawing up his power to send a wave of force at her.  
  
She slides back a few inches and stays there, scoffing. "Don't bother, you already tired yourself out. Been awhile since you've had your fix huh, Sam? Without my blood, I can do anything I want to you."  
  
Another push just blows back her hair and sends a wave of agony rushing through Sam's head. He tries to shake it off as Ruby splits apart his fly, torn button zinging into a window, spidering it with cracks.  
  
There isn't even time or thought to get the exorcism chant on his lips. Ruby bashes him into the wall again then dumps him on the bed and the sheets twist around his wrists and ankles and pull taut. Sam can only shout her name furiously, until that too is taken away as a piece of sheet bands between his teeth. He thrashes against the covers, hears the seams scream apart but Ruby only binds him with more sheets, binds him tighter. Sam catches her in his sight and tries to hook his power inside her meatsuit and pull her out of it, tugs, tugs—  
  
Blood rushes from his nose. Sam snaps his head the other way when an excruciating spike travels through his brain and gasps drowning breaths.  
  
"I like when you push yourself, Sam, but you're gonna give yourself a hemorrhage if you keep that up. Then what would we do?"  
  
Her scent is close. "You think you can kill me, Sam?" she asks, and he doesn't know if it's her or her power that strokes over him.  
  
He's looking at Dean now, who's returning the eye contact, but Dean's dazed, looks like he's been stuffed up to the gills with drugs. He has no idea what the hell is going on, and Sam feels a fierce burn of rage and protectiveness light him up inside. He hopes he conveys with his expression that he's going to get Dean out of this and away from here, then he looks back to Ruby, but Ruby's already moving around the bed, to Dean's side.  
  
Dean has the presence of mind to shift away when she reaches for him, but he can only get so far. "Guess we're doing this the hard way Sam," she sighs, catching Dean by the waistband and sweeping the pants off before Sam can even get breath enough to scream at her. Dean whimpers uncertainly, pushed against Sam's side, eyes flicking between them both.  
  
Sam chews at the sheet, thumping his head back to the pillow as his eyes prick. More than anything, he wishes he could tell Dean it's okay. He wishes he could tell Dean he was right, and he should've listened, and he's sorry.  
  
He sees Ruby's hand go between Dean's legs and hears her soothe, "This'll only take a second, Dean," and he turns away from it all, can't stand watching when he can't do a single thing. He can't help but hear Dean's intake of breath however, and feel him push closer to Sam, his distress putting needles in Sam's nose and lungs.  
  
Sam hears Ruby laugh, and then come around to the other side of the bed again. He jumps as she touches him, pulling him out through his ripped fly. He jerks his ankles against the sheets and they give, and so do the ones around his wrists, and the one in his mouth. He sits up immediately, eyes finding Ruby's in confusion.  
  
Ruby smiles. Ruby says, "Here," and grips him behind the neck and brings her other hand to his face and all Sam has time to think is there's something clear and shiny spread on her palm, before she's wiping it over his nose and lips.  
  
Sam inhales.  
  
The world tightens around him and Sam's lost—he listens to the rush in his head and feels it move his body, how he swipes away the female then finds the Omega in the blur, and he yanks the source of the sweet smell down, then open, open, open. He roots himself deep, deep, deeper, tighthotwet yes yes yes yes yes sinking into the sweet smell, immersing himself in it all, burrowing down in harder harder harder, beneath the water and the sand and into the core.  
  
The female's too close. She's touching his neck again and speaking the same noise again and again before Sam snaps at her, shifting on the Omega to cover him from her eyes, because he's his, his, his. Sam imparts a final snarl to the female then slams his face into his Omega's neck growls out _mine_ , again and again, threading arms underneath him to clutch him tight.  
  
Time passes senselessly, from one state of awareness to the other, like darting through dreams and he forgets each one as soon as the next arrives. There's his and his Omega's breaths, and there's voices behind them, and there's the birds outside, and everything else comes and goes.  
  
He gets deep into the body under him, and then can't move back out, so he stays there, and feels accomplished and done. Complete.  
  
In the edges of his vision, light is crawling onto the bed, warming his legs. He shifts closer to it, tugging the body he's tied to with him, and the sun hits his back. He sighs under the warmth and hides his face in sweet skin.  
  
Their hearts thump between them, slowing but heavy, strong beats that bang against each other. Sam listens and feels, and then he hears the voices again, a light tone talking of seals and something rising. Sam loses the words just as quick.  
  
He's sated, and he sleeps.

\--  
  
When Sam wakes up, Ruby is gone. Dean is gone.  
  
Sam falls onto the floor and retches until something comes up (blood, Ruby's blood, scorched black like tar) and then buries his forehead in the crook of his elbow and lays there for countless minutes, until he mechanically gets back on his feet and winds up in the shower, blinking water from his eyelashes. He uses body wash on his hair and shampoo on his skin and stays under there until hot water turns to cold, until his skin adjusts and it turns warm again. He shaves, he combs his hair, he puts on his deodorant and clothes and ties his laces tight.  
  
It's sunny outside and the air smells like fresh cut hay and something easy.  
  
Sam sits in the shade beside the door and calls Dean.  
  
"This is Dean's other, other cell, so you must know what to do."  
  
Sam opens his mouth after the beep and all he gets out is the clicking sound his throat makes.  
  
He hangs up.  
  
He doesn't try again.  
  
\--  
  
Sam thinks he should move on, catch a ride to the next state, but he's still at the fucking motel, and he keeps fucking paying for the room, and he keeps fucking sleeping in the same bed every night. There's listless trips to the nearest diner for to-go breakfast, lunch and dinner, and he went to the laundromat on Saturday, but it's like he's _stuck_ here, in three hundred square feet of thin carpet and peeling wallpaper and Dean could be fucking dead.  
  
But Sam doesn't think Ruby took him. No, Sam thinks Dean just woke up enough time before him, hell, maybe even days before him, and beat feet. Sam might've done the same. Would've, he thinks.  
  
Any blood that isn't Ruby's isn't the same, but it relieves the headache and the lethargy and that's good enough. Sam kills the demon after he drinks it, clenching his fist tight around the blackness dwelling in its teenage host until it swallows itself up, and he doesn't even get a nosebleed.  
  
The boy is unconscious after, but alive.  
  
Sam waits another night, because he's come to realize that's what he's doing, waiting, and he bit Dean, he must've, because the sorrow, the yearning, is planted so deep no amount of trying not to think or feel can numb it.  
  
Sam prays to God for forgiveness he doesn't deserve. He prays for Dean's forgiveness, and he prays for Dean to call, for him to come back.  
  
All of Sam's prayers over the years have gone unanswered. As more days pass, that luck doesn't seem like it's going to change.  
  
Sam wakes up eventually. He's packing his duffel when there's a knock at the door.  
  
Sam can smell already that it's Dean, and his walk to the door is long and heavy.  
  
Dean's dressed in jeans and a thick black jacket and a cast. He just regards Sam for quite a while, blue shadows from the approaching night cutting deep into his smooth cheeks. Sam tries to meet his eyes but only gets to his chin and while standing there, tries to think of anything to say even while he knows there's nothing.  
  
"Why are you still here," Dean says after a few moments, flat-toned and scratchy like he hasn't talked in weeks. A gust of wind pushes the collar of Dean's jacket to the side, revealing reddish-purple marks and fuck, Sam knew it, but he wants to push away his skin and light himself on fire anyway.  
  
Sam just says the truth. "Waiting for you to come back."  
  
"Yeah," Dean says, long and low and dark, "you own me now huh?"  
  
"No, I don't. You didn't have to come back. I was—I was about to leave." Sam turns away and runs a hand through his hair. He goes back to his duffel to put space between them, absurdly hoping Dean will take off, and how can he think that now, when he prayed for his return just this afternoon?  
  
"Leave where." But Dean steps in and closes the door. The bottle of aspirin in Sam's fingers shakes dangerously before he manages to tuck it into his bag, then he grips the strap and takes a big breath.  
  
"Don't know. Just, somewhere else."  
  
"Huh." Dean takes in the state of the room, obviously been cleaned up since the last time he was here.  
  
Sam nearly chokes on them, but he gets the words out of his throat. "Why'd you come back Dean?"  
  
He feels Dean's eyes on him, watches the cold crawl of a mean smile shape his lips. "You're my brother."  
  
\--  
  
Dean still holds himself like an Alpha, spine straight and shoulders set. Talks like one. Fights like one.  
  
When Sam can look him in the eyes again they're the same green they've been always, but less expressive. More reflective. Unsettles Sam to the point where he can't hold eye contact for more than a minute before he's darting down to Dean's nose or chin and finding the freckles around his mouth.  
  
Dean's scent still marks him Omega, still is sweet and alluring, and his claiming bite is still perfectly etched, creating a damning stretch of longing and hopelessness in Sam. Dean is, fundamentally, his mate. Sam is, fundamentally, Dean's mate.  
  
Sam's bound them in such a way that the world will end before that becomes false.  
  
He doesn't broach that subject with Dean. Doesn't need to, because it's discussed in the air between them, in long car rides, in tacky motel rooms. In how Dean tenses up when Sam so much as brushes against him, in what Dean doesn't say, and the steely undercurrent in what he does.  
  
They don't discuss the demon blood, or Ruby, or _it_. As far as he knows, Dean hasn't told anyone. They notice of course, no escaping that, but the fact that Bobby and Castiel will still speak to him lets him know Dean's let the semantics go unsaid.  
  
Dean takes heat suppressants now, and they work. They're still tracking Lilith, and that works. All of Sam's powers work too, even though he's subsisting on low-level demon stock.  
  
Ruby'll come scuttling back, and that's something both him and Dean know.  
  
Sam swears to Dean he'll kill them both. Two heads, two plates, only promise he ever kept.  
  
He's done it all for Dean, anyway.  
  


 

  
_end_


End file.
